


In the Company of Flowers

by Esmeraude11



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, First Age, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25175251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esmeraude11/pseuds/Esmeraude11
Summary: Nimloth could not help but think that he was, perhaps, more beautiful than his mother had been.
Relationships: Dior Eluchíl/Nimloth of Doriath
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	In the Company of Flowers

The long wooden stems in his hands shifted and twisted. Slender leafy branches wound themselves into a sturdy loop. Vibrant flowers bloomed all along its length. It was a delicately beautiful thing.

A crown to match the one upon his brow.

Whereas his was crowned with the fair white niphredil that had bloomed readily beneath his mother's feet, the one in his hands was topped with a bold red flower with many tiny petals. The crown he wore was made of a gleaming dark golden wood. Its whorls and twisting branches glimmered with the pale gold-white of the Silmaril’s light.

It suited the flowers.

The crown he had just made was a silvery-pale wood in comparison. Shimmering prettily underneath the light of the jewel set within the Nauglamír. The red blooms stood proudly upon it.

Nimloth smiled.

Red suited her appearance well. Complemented her fine white hair and porcelain-pale appearance. The garnets and rubies that had once sat upon her throat and graced her brow. Gifts from her father. Jewels bought from the Dwarves of Nogrod long before the Nauglamír. For those self-same jewels had matched the color of her eyes. Eyes that she had inherited from her mother.

She no longer wore them. Not after the murder of King Elu.

She had put them away after. They sat within a trinket box hidden within folds of fabric in her wardrobe. Perhaps she would gift them to Elwing when she was older. Or gift pieces to Elurín and Eluréd. She would no longer wear them. Many within the court no longer wore their jewels and trinkets after the sacking of Menegroth. Not the beautiful Dwarven gems or the gems mined from Menegroth's own caverns. None could stomach it. For the grief such things brought.

The Nauglamír was the one piece of jewelry that still glimmered within Menegroth’s court. There was pride in that. Plenty of grief. But many took comfort at the sight of the jewel set within the carcanet. For the gold-white light washed away their grief and filled their hearts with a gentle warmth. Much as it had when worn by the king and his daughter.

His grandfather's crowns had been of fine Dwarven make and delicate Elven craft.

Dior's were made of wooden stalks, leaves, and beautiful flowers. Same as the crowns that had graced his mother's brow. Of plants that would bloom for as long as he wished. As undying as the King of Doriath himself and imbued with the same power that had led to the Kingdom of Doriath being named the Blessed Wood by its people.

Nimloth could not help but wonder. If King Elu, at the end of his reign, would have worn Dior's creations upon his brow with as much pride as he'd borne the Nauglamír. These crowns had been grown by the power that was Dior's right. A gift of his mother's as much as it was his grandmother's. For Melian had been a beloved servant of Ivann in Dor-Rodynn. Hers was a gift of song and music. Of power over the green growing things and the living beasts.

She could not say.

For the king had long favored the bright gleam of metal and stone over the gentle blooms and sweet fragrances of wood and flower. However, Melian had been his queen and keeper of his heart. Lúthien his heart's delight as much as Daeron had been the apple of his eye. Flowers had bloomed in their wake and Elu had gazed upon them with pride.

She wondered. If flowers would bloom in wake of her own sons’ sweet laughter. If saplings would grow long and slender with her daughter's delight.

A sweet thought that filled her heart with wonder and joy in equal measure as she eyed the man before her with fondness.

"Dior." Nimloth could not help but scold. Laughter filled her voice as her husband peered down at her. Dior's mouth was curved into an impish grin. His skin radiant with a gentle white light similar to the star-like brilliance that filled his eyes.

He was the very image of his mother and grandmother.

"Nimloth." A playful edge filled his voice even as he held the crown to her. She inclined her head and felt him lay his creation upon her head with a sweetness that even now filled her heart with joy.

She blinked up at him. A smile curling along her lips as he ran his fingers over a lock of gently curling white hair.

"Well?" She tilted her chin up and eyed the young man before her. Dior was beautiful. Perhaps the most beautiful man that she had ever laid eyes upon. She would certainly name him the fairest among the Eldar.

They had met within the shadows of Tol Galen by the spray of the gentle falls that separated the isle from Ossiriand. She had been struck by the sight before her. Dark hair gleaming in the gentle light of dawn. Bright eyes peering into the quiet mirror of the river just before the falls. Distracted, she had stepped on a branch. Startled, he had met her gaze and she had been lost.

Nimloth could not help but think that he was, perhaps, more beautiful than his mother had been.

And he was hers. For he had fallen in love with her above all others.

Nimloth with her great-grandfather's white hair and fine skin. Her mother's long-slender limbs and fine-boned features.

Dior had his mother's look about him.

His dark hair was long and straight. Each individual strand as fine as silk. She had yet to find a single snarl within it. His broad shoulders were his father's. Beren had been strong and sturdy in appearance even at the end of his life. Dior had inherited his mother's height. He loomed tall and towered over others at court as Lúthien once had. He was as light on his feet as his mother had been.

Dior laughed easily and freely. Smiles curved his lips and sweetened his gaze.

His eyes were as grey as the starless night. Bright with an inner radiance that made them shine like jewels. Like the jewel that sat so lightly upon his collarbone. His gaze was all too similar in appearance with Lúthien and Daeron's. Those bright eyes filled with joy and grief in equal measure. Nimloth could not say with absolute surety that they were solely Melian's.

King Elu was once renowned for having the brightest eyes among the Eldar. His eyes, many had whispered with gentle awe and quiet delight, were akin to the stars themselves. The only one among their number to have gazed upon the Trees of Dor-Roddyn. To stand in the presence of the Trees whose light shown with the same light that glimmered in the sparks sown into the tapestry of the night by Elbereth's gentle hand.

"Beautiful." His voice was soft now. The sound reminiscent of whispering leaves, trailing vines, and the distant echo of spray upon stone. It brought to mind the calm within the silver-shimmer of a pool in the dark of night. The joyous trill of songbirds in the early dawn. Nimloth wondered, not for the first time, if this was an inheritance of the Queen's.

For Melian's voice had echoed the song of the nightingales. The whistling of the wind in Doriath's shadowed woods. The rustling of grass and shivering leaves. The gentle burbling of Doriath's pools and lakes and rivers. Overbearing and yet nebulous.

The old queen could no more hide the truth of her very being than the Iathrim themselves.

Dior, as Lúthien before him, bore the mark of Melian's influence in ways that were so clear and yet subtle.

Nimloth could not help but smile up at him and reached out to take his hand within her own.

**Author's Note:**

> God. I had a lot feelings for Dior and Nimloth as I wrote this.
> 
> Dior did indeed go out one morning to frolic in the woods, randomly returned with a pretty girl, told his parents that he was in love, and that they were getting married. Beren and Lúthien had a moment of extreme déjà vu while they processed this. Even better. Lúthien recognized Nimloth as her younger cousin and briefly stared.
> 
> Dior is his mother's son after all and falling in love at first sight is a proud family tradition.


End file.
